NY Times: Yes, Virginia, There Is NO Santa Clause

 Dear Editor:

I am eight years old.  Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.  Papa, says, "If you see it in The New York Times, it's so. Please tell the truth, is there a Santa Claus?

Virginia O'Hanlon

115 West 95th Street

Virginia, you did not include your gender or personal pronouns, so we at the prestigious and pompous The New York Times are in a quandary.  How do we address you?  Also, you may be eight but do you identify as a 10-year old?  You see the conundrum you have created with your brief letter.

Let me first say, I am surprised someone eight even has to ask the Santa Claus question.  Are you being home schooled?  Every third grader knows Santa Claus is just a ruse to allow greedy corporate titans to sell toys to overindulgent parents. Public schools teach the truth about the Santa myth.  

George Soros funded fact-checkers at The Washington Post gave five Pinocchios to your parents' claim about Santa Claus.  Supposedly, Santa Claus has been around for like a thousand years.  Really, Virginia, you would have to be as gullible as an FTX Exchange investor to believe that fairy tale. 

So, no, Santa Claus does not exist. Tell your parents they are enemies of the government for spreading misinformation.  I suggest you turn them into the new Disinformation Governance Board created by our Dear Leader Joe Biden.  It's not snitching if your loving, caring parents spread lies.  

Judging from your naiveté, I should warn you that crime in your New York neighborhood is not rising, no matter what your Dad says.  We have a saying around The New York Times, "Don't believe the official crime reports from NY Police.  Police are racists and Ultra Mega white supremacists."

Obviously you lead a sheltered life, so I suggest you question your gender identity.  Perhaps, you believe you are a girl, but you may actually be a boy trapped in a female body.  Or you could be non-binary.  In that case, you may get a government job in the administration of Our Dear Leader.

There are surgeries available to address gender fluidity.  Don't tell Mommy or Daddy but you can get counseling at your local public school.  Teachers will help you explore options for gender mutilation. You can go from Virginia to Vincenzo in one afternoon.  Exciting stuff, huh? 

Question everything your parents tell you. They may not have you best interests at heart.  I mean they have already lied about Santa Claus.  What other untruths have they told?  Surely, they didn't tell you there is a  God?  Rely on the federal government and the FBI for honest, truthful information.  

Above all, don't listen to your friends, especially those whose parents drive gasoline cars. They are squeezing the life out of our planet. Your home will be destroyed by rising seas. The polar bears in the New York Zoo will all die.  You will have to relocate to Mars.  You don't want that, right?

To save the planet we all must sacrifice, Virginia. Here are some things you can do. Use only one sheet of toilet paper in the bathroom. Don't eat beef because cows produce methane gas.  Eat plant-based steaks instead. Throw red paint on artworks at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  

You didn't mention your parents' race, Virginia. But I assume by your name they are lily-white.  No parent of color would burden their child with an alabaster name.  Your parents family probably owned slaves. That means you are racist and should shame your parents into paying reparations.

In closing, I want to invite you to a holiday Drag Queen Show just for youngsters hosted by The New York Times. This will open your mind to the wonderful world you live in.  Who knows, you have grow up to be a queen one day! The possibilities for someone your age are limited only by the government. 

Editor-in-chief

Author Saltburger Jr.

P.S. I don't recommend a career in journalism, Virginia. Slave laborers make more money than a Times reporter.  I should know, I set the pay scales around here. 

Santa Wakes Up To A Woke Winter

North Pole (AP)--2021 was a repeat of the previous year in this sleepy city of 2,022 residents. Reindeer noses were cloaked in masks.  Elves remained six feet apart.  Santa Claus submitted to daily COVID tests. The new normal, however, was shaken when a traveling caravan of 12 Californians arrived.

Overnight, this tiny hamlet became infected with a disease far worse than the virus: Wokeness.  The Californians, mostly San Francisco residents fleeing their city, launched a campaign to force the North Pole to address rampant, systemic racism.  Their first salvo was to challenge the Whiteness of the city.

"There is white everywhere you look," snickered the caravan's greasy-haired, self-appointed leader Galvanized Newman. "There's white snow on the streets and on the roofs and even Santa's beard is white. This reeks of White Supremacy.  We are not going to stand for this."

Santa Claus, taken aback by the charges, struck a conciliatory chord. "Fine, we'll import smog from Los Angeles, which will turn the snow black," he said in exasperation.  But that didn't satisfy the restless newcomers.  They demanded the song "White Christmas" be banned.  

"But I like Bing Crosby," Mrs. Claus moaned.  This just inflamed passions of the dissidents.  All 12 Golden Staters marched into town and ripped down the statute of St. Nicholas, the patron saint of the village.  "It was St. Nick, who enslaved elves and brought disease from Greece," Newman huffed.

After this incident, events spiraled out of control.  Newman, bent on importing San Francisco-style Wokeness, ran for Mayor and won the election by allowing reindeer to submit mail-in ballots.   Newman's opponent, an elf named Ronald Trumpet,  accused the Californian of stealing the election.

In his first official act, Newman finagled the two person council to vote to require Critical Face Theory training for all North Pole residents, reindeer included.  Under CFT doctrine, no citizen could look another in the face thus preventing facial bias.  A baffled Santa and Mrs. Claus boycotted the session. 

The offended twelve,  dubbed the California Clucks Clan (CCC) by locals, marched to the Claus' one-bedroom home and spray-painted a slogan on the white clapboard house: "There is nothing jolly about a White Supremacist."  Santa rang the police only to find out the council had defunded the department.

Santa beseeched the CCC to hold a meeting so he could address their grievances.  Two days later, all 2,022 residents, elves and reindeer huddled in the city hall.  After Newman ranted about Santa's rural ignorance, the rotund man rose unsteadily, having packed on 20 pounds during the pandemic.

"Every Christmas," he began in a raspy voice, "I bring gifts to children of every race.  I let every kid sit on my lap at the mall, even the smelly ones.  I take photos with all children, including those with missing teeth. We do good around the world and carry on the Christmas tradition here."

When the flabby man slumped in his chair, the crowd erupted in cheers.  Newman was not impressed.  "Yes, yes," he nodded. "You bring gifts to children, regardless of race.  But we are talking about equity. The children of color deserve more gifts than the others for past white patriarchy."

Several locals fished their iPhones out of their pockets and googled "patriarchy."  Newman shook his fist at the the residents and lobbed another verbal grenade.  "You people are backward, science deniers, bible toting, gun-loving idiots. And those are your--insert air quotes-- 'good' qualities."   

A near riot ignited as angry locals shouted down Newman, who showed his vaccination passport to stop the onrushing residents.  The mayor thought about summoning police, but then remembered he had furloughed the lone law officer.  Mrs. Claus, the town peacemaker, stood and shushed the crowd.  

"Please," she said, motioning the locals to return to their chairs.  "We will make all the changes you have demanded.  We just want to live in harmony. " A murmur arose from the residents.  Undeterred, Mrs. Claus continued, "Let's give this a try. What could go wrong?"

Santa's head snapped back, but he knew better than to challenge his spouse.  For a few days, peace reigned as fresh, white snow coated the village.  Work resumed in Santa's workshop.  The reindeer began playing their usual games, like Texas Hold em.  The quiet was shattered a day later by Newman.

The mayor urged that Rudolph's name be changed to X-dolph. "Reindeer by nature are binary, neither male or female. Rudolph should be able to decide its gender."  The red light on Rudolph's nose flickered furiously.  Santa intervened, petting his sleigh leader on the rump, to calm, he, she, it.

While Santa stroked Rudolph...er X-dolph...Dancer and Prancer sidled up to him.  Both pawed the ground with their hooves, writing a message in the snow. Santa read and was startled.  "We should be treated differently," the duo had written. "We are LGBTQ and appeal for support for our rights."

Santa's patience hung by a thread.  He trudged through the snow. leaving Newman knee deep in reindeer dung.  Opening the door to his cottage, he found Mrs. Claus snuggled in a blanket by a roaring fireplace. He plopped down in his lounge chair next to her and the two talked into the wee hours.

The next day dawned sunny, a rare ray of hope in the long gray North Pole winter.  Santa ambled to the toy workshop and then visited the reindeer in the free range area.  When he departed, elves and reindeer tromped in his footsteps as Santa resolutely waddled to city hall, where an anxious crowd awaited.

Santa shuffled toward the microphone at the front of the drafty hall, as reindeer jostled for the best seats at the front.  The Twelve stood at the back, arms folded, scowls on their faces.  A hush fell over the assembly.  Santa cleared his throat and spread his flabby arms.

"Mr. Claus and I have withstood bitter winters, ungrateful kids, pushy parents and Christmas nights that seemed to never end.  But it was worth it to see the smiles on the faces of the children.  But now, we have come to a major decision." Santa paused, "We're moving our operation to Florida."

An audible gasp arose from the locals.  "We don't want to become San Francisco, " Santa explained.  "Mrs. Claus has already picked out a nice condo in Naples.  The elves will be able to see the sun almost every day.  The reindeer won't have to wear masks.  And there is no tax on white beards."

The crowd sat stunned as they absorbed the news.  Then one-by-one the locals stood and clapped and squealed with joy.  The elves danced a jig.  The reindeer nuzzled one another.  No one minded trading the North Pole's frigid winters for balmy Florida.

Santa loaded up his sleigh, hitched up the reindeer team, and waved to the knot of excited North Pole residents.  "Merry Christmas," he whooped as his belly shook like a bowl of Jello.  "And I'll see you in Florida."

Santa: Forget the Ferrari; Bring Us Tolerance

Dear Santa Claus:

Despite my semi-exemplary behavior, last year you ignored my Christmas wish for a  661-horsepower Ferrari with a turbo charged, naturally aspirated V8 engine. A red one, to match Rudolf's nose. Perhaps, you couldn't lug it down the chimney.  Maybe elves drive Porches and refuse to make Italian cars.   

I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.  Unlike Virginia, I still believe in you Santa. But I admit you are on shaky ground at the Roy residence.  Don't expect wine and cheese this year.  And if you are not wearing a mask, don't show up unless you want Dr. Fauci to place you on his naughty list.  

This year I am surrendering my selfish lust for a shiny red Ferrari.  I wish for something every American needs, especially me.  I am requesting Tolerance.  Note the capital T for emphasis.  We are becoming increasingly unwilling to respect other opinions or beliefs contrary to our own. Our minds are shuttered.

We lash out at those with whom we disagree.  We judge people based on their politics instead of their character. The undercurrent of narrow-mindedness is dividing families.  We ostracize friends who don't support our candidate.  We huddle in social silos, limiting our circle to those who nod in agreement.

People who share our dogmatism are our tribal nation.  Civil discussions are no longer possible between those with differing ideas. We condemn expressions we consider foreign to established norms. Once we were open minded. No belief was considered too eccentric because we valued freedom of thought.

I recall visiting the North Pole one year and being privy to a class on mutual respect taught by Prancer.  I was struck by how all the other reindeer asked thoughtful questions and received sensible answers. There was no paw wagging.  Not one reindeer tore down a statue or looted a North Pole Nike store.

Santa we need the Readers Digest version of that class in every stocking hung by the fireplace.  We don't respect those who view the world through a lens that deviates from someone's idea of mainstream.  We mock and criticize our friends and turn them into enemies over their political choices. 

Freedom of speech has been disfigured to mean freedom from speech we don't like.  There are safe places at our universities where disagreement with the prevailing Woke doctrine is prohibited.  Ideas cannot be challenged because dissent labels the objector as racist, homophobic, misogynist or jingoistic.

We find it hard to trust people who hold contrary perspectives.  If they believe that whacky theory, then their intellect is missing a neuron or two. How can seemingly astute adults fall for an outlandish conjectural theory?  Our fallback position is to mistrust them and their motives for their views. 

Worst of all, Santa, there is a growing tide of censorship in America.  I know you run the North Pole like it was Venezuela.  But for centuries in our country it was considered treason not to allow the free exchange of ideas, even bad ones.  Now our news media and tech firms quash speech they don't like.

I am beginning to ramble. But hear me out.  This censorship is a reflection of our intolerance.  There is an acceptable view, as sanctioned by the elite, that we all must endorse or face searing rejection.  Some even lose their jobs over it.  Can you imagine firing Blizten over his views on reindeer resettlement?

I don't know about you Santa, but I don't want to live in a world where everyone thinks alike.  It would be boring, unchallenging and plainly unAmerican.  I enjoy the repartee of a good old fashioned disagreement.  We learn when our biases are contested.  It provides an opportunity to reexamine our justifications.

Oh, and one more thing.  I wish we could just argue over facts and not squishy feelings.  We are each entitled to our own feelings.  But these emotions should not outweigh facts.  If we make everything about our selfish sensations then all hope of honest dialogue will vanish.

I know folks are now calling for unity. But I am afraid that is code for group think.  This country, despite what many think, has been divided since its founding.  What unites us is our belief in freedom not politics. That includes the freedom of speech.  Freedom of religion. Liberty for all.  Justice and American values. 

Santa, I am over the whole red Ferrari incident.  Tell Virginia I think she is a complete idiot for not believing in you.  That's my opinion and I am not changing my mind.  Geez!  I just remembered I wished for Tolerance.  Hurry, Santa.  As you can tell, I need that gift more than anyone this Christmas.

Your Semi-Naughty But Never Wavering Believer,

Drew Roy 

Elves Stir Ruckus Jeopardizing Christmas

An impeachment inquiry has been scheduled for Christmas Day by a cadre of North Pole elves who want to oust Santa Claus from his position.  News of the development has left anxious children all over the world wondering if they will receive toys and gifts this year.

An investigation was announced by Alabaster Snowball, the administrator of the Naughty and Nice List that Santa Claus relies on to decide which child's behavior merits toys.  The diminutive Snowball claimed to have support from members of the Naughty and Nice Elf Committee.

At a hastily called hearing, Snowball alleged Santa secretly raised the behavioral standard to advantage kids with parents in the wealthiest one percent. Snowball revealed a whistleblower had overheard Santa making the request in a phone call to the Ukrainian born reindeer Blitzen.

Although Snowball did not divulge the identity of the whistleblower, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer speculated the snitch was Wunorse Openslae, a disgruntled elf who serves on the committee. "Openslae has been hostile to Santa this entire year," Rudolph glowed with discontent.

Santa Claus took to social media to unleash a torrent of tweets slamming Snowball as a partisan hack.  "Snowball has concocted a Snow Job.  He's upset because he had to work overtime last year making toys because too many kids made the Nice List. Naughty SNOWBALL!," read one tweet.

The white-bearded Claus pledged to fulfill his Christmas duty by skipping the "sham" inquiry.  A defiant Claus told a news conference: "I will guarantee every kid: "If you like your gift, you can actually keep your gift." Some considered the quote a slap at Santa's cousin Obama Claus.

A few news reporters tried to goad the merry man into responding to catty comments from fashion designers about Mrs. Claus's dated red and white outfit and her ample figure.  "You journalists should look in the mirror before you body shame anyone," the roly-poly Claus retorted.

A reporter from the Washington Impeachment Post challenged Claus to release his medical records in light of reports about Claus' own weight gain.  "My personal physician, Dr. Shirley O. Bese, said I have the body of a 1,749-year old man," answered Claus, who became a legend in 270 A.D.

During the session with news members, angry environmentalists outside began waving signs proclaiming, "Santa Supports Dirty Coal!" A spokesperson for the group accused Santa of polluting the atmosphere by giving naughty kids a lump of coal in their Christmas stockings.

"We demand Santa pay a carbon tax if he is going to continue to use coal," the spokesperson told shivering bystanders.  The environmental protesters also pointed out Santa's sleigh was powered by reindeer, whose burping fouls the air across the world.

Donner was not amused.  "Count me as a burp denier," the reindeer harrumphed. "Santa feeds all his reindeer a vegan diet.  Now admittedly, a few order meals from Jenny Craig, but most of the reindeer are content to munch on plant food that tastes just like a Whopper."

Inside at the news briefing, a handful of illegal immigrants from the South Pole interrupted Claus and insisted their children deserved free toys at Christmas just like the local kids in North Pole.  The clump of aliens produced drivers licenses proving they were citizens of New Jersey.

Claus directed the immigrants to discuss the matter with Shinny Upatree, the elf charged with barcoding each toy with the recipient's address before it is loaded on Santa's sleigh on Christmas Eve.  Upatree appeared with two Icy Gents who ushered the immigrants out of the room.

With all the hullabaloo, Santa figured he needed to change the prevailing narrative.  He tugged an index card from the pocket of his red coat and began reciting his recent achievements. Reporters and bystanders listened as Claus ticked off a list that included a record stockings market.

"Ever since last Christmas, sales of stockings to be hung by fireplaces have soared.  The market is now up to 28,000 stockings for the year.  No one ever imagined sales would reach such heights," bragged Santa.  "And, I have added more jobs this year than any North Pole employer."

As the news conference was wrapping up, Santa wanted to have the last word.  He held up his fleshy arms to silence the media herd.  "I just want to leave you with two words:  'Merry Christmas!'," he bellowed as his belly shook like a bowl full of Jello.

For once the media mob fell silent.  No reporter objected.  A few promised to write flattering stories about Santa Claus.  Just kidding.  This whole last paragraph is Fake News.  But the remainder of the account is factually accurate as certified by the never reliable website Snopes. 

Memories of Christmases Past

Christmas always stirs memories of past family celebrations of this holy day.  Many of you likely have the same experience, especially as we gain the retrospection of many seasons.  There is something magical about retelling of our personal stories of long ago Christmases.

My earliest recollections are of Christmas visits to my grandparents, Gussie and Fernan Roy, in tiny Iota, Louisiana. My Mom and Dad would shoehorn seven kids and presents into our station wagon for the drive.  Christmas music played on the car radio.  Dad refereed the jostling kids in back.

Entering my grandparents house was a treat for the senses.  The scent of a freshly cut Christmas tree. Big bright colored bulbs and icicles were eye candy.  The tantalizing aroma of freshly baked cookies and fudge. The coziness of their house, warmed by gas space heaters with flickering flames.

That first evening of our arrival, my grandmother would nestle by the heaters and spin mesmerizing tales in her unique Cajun accent as her gaggle of grandchildren doted on every word.  The stories were ordinary small town anecdotes but recited in a very extraordinary way.

The lilt in her voice, the twinkle in her eyes, the love shining through her narrative.  I will always treasure memories of those tales, rich in cultural context and oozing with local color.    That storytelling talent has been lost in the clutter of our digital age of 132 characters.

Apologies for the digression. Uncles, aunts and cousins would arrive the next day.  The atmosphere was joyous, heartwarming.  Peels of laughter, cheerful smiles and rabid discussions of college football.  A bouquet of aromas filled the house as dinner was served on an long wooden table.

If I close my eyes, I can hear the grownup chatter around the table and smell the scent of the abundant trove of food.  Most of you are conjuring up your own dinner memories.  Few people today prepare an entire feast for the holiday because life's pressure cooker allows little leftover time.

Another Roy family tradition was a Christmas Eve junket to view outdoor decorations in our neighborhood and adjoining areas.  Dad was tour director for his wide-eyed brood, who giggled at his often feisty commentary.  At the end of one of these guided excursions, he announced to laughter:

"Next year, we are going to make a big sign and stick it in the front yard.  There will be a bright spotlight on the sign, which will read: 'We think your Christmas decorations stink, too!"  You had to know my Dad to fully appreciate his Cajun brand of humor.

My best Christmas gift from Santa Claus?  That's an easy one.  The year--I think I was six or seven--I discovered a Lionel electric train under the tree on Christmas morning.  The engine puffed smoke and tooted its whistle.  I grew woozy just watching it chug around the oval track for hours at a time.

In fact, Mom decided the train possessed sleep aid properties.  She would prop my brother Bob, a toddler at the time, in a chair and ask me to crank up the train.  After a few laps, he was sound asleep.  I never understood why Big Pharma did not patent Lionel Trains as a sleep drug.

After 73 Christmas mornings, there is one that stands out above all others.  The year was 1977 and our youngest son Derek had only recently entered the world on a snowy December 6 in frigid St. Louis.  He arrived in the midst of one of the worst blizzards in the city's history.

It was the first Christmas with both our sons Dean, 18 months, and Derek.  I can still see Dianna, snuggled in a robe, huddled next to the Christmas tree, clutching Derek in her arms while Dean gazed down at his brother.  The tenderness of that one moment reminded me of the meaning of Christmas.

Like Mary, Dianna cradled a newborn babe on Christmas Day.  Our small house was not fit for a King, nor was that manger more than 2,000 years ago.  It didn't matter.  Like Mary and Joseph, we were overjoyed at the sight of our new son, swaddled in a blanket on a shivering morning.

When things get hectic during the holidays, my thoughts drift to that Christmas.  The vivid memories keep me grounded in what is really important at Christmas.  It is not about the tree, the presents or even the twinkling lights.  Christmas is about the birth of a Son who would change the world.

Jesus remains the best gift every Christmas.

Santa's Crisis: Deer In The Headlights

A highly contagious virus known as political correctness has infected the reindeer at the North Pole leading to a near mutiny.  Some reindeer, wearing yellow vests, even tried to set fire to the elves' workshop, forcing Santa Claus to mobilize the Polar National Guard.  Tensions remain high.

The discontent began innocently enough about a month ago.  The reindeer were practicing pulling a sleigh piled with toys when Mrs. Claus piped Christmas music over the loudspeaker.  When the song "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" began playing, the reindeer Blitzen took a knee.

The other reindeer, including their leader Rudolph, joined the protest.  A shocked Mrs. Claus summoned Santa, who was checking one of his famous lists.  "It's scandalous," Santa yelped.  "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" is the North Pole's national anthem," he pointed out.

Santa confronted Blitzen, a former walk-on as a linebacker with Marshal University's Thundering Herd football team.  "What's your beef," Santa asked gruffly.  Blizten cast his eyes downward and pawed the ground.  "I find offensive the line 'Bring us pudding,'" he answered.

"Why on earth would you object to that?" a dumbfounded Santa inquired.  Blitzen flicked his tail and replied: "It smacks of White Beard Privilege.  No reindeer has ever eaten pudding.  That's for rich folks like you.  We are lucky to have a few leafy greens or arctic char," Blitzen pouted.

To keep the peace, Santa reluctantly agreed the reindeer could remain on bended knee during the playing of the song but only at the North Pole.  That seemed to placate the reindeer and Santa left relieved.  However, tranquility lasted only two days.   Another Christmas song rattled the peace.

When "Baby It's Cold Outside" blared over the loudspeaker, Cupid went berserk.  She bolted from the reindeer games and locked herself inside the gender neutral restroom.  Tears flowed and wailing could be heard for miles.  Santa was alerted and rushed to find out what was wrong.

The bearded man with the ample belled softly knocked on the restroom door.  "Go away," Cupid sobbed.  A perplexed Santa tried soothing Cupid.  "I hate that song," Cupid shrieked.  "It is sexist and demeaning.  If Mrs. Claus plays it one more time, I will quit the reindeer team."

Santa threw up his hands.  "Ok, Ok.  No more 'Baby It's Cold Outside.'  Now can you come out into the cold, baby?"  Cupid pranced out of the restroom into the snow and sauntered past Santa without acknowledging his presence.  After the dust-up, Santa ordered Mrs. Claus to burn the loudspeaker.

For a solid week, toy production was humming, the reindeer were practicing wind sprints and the sleigh had received a fresh coat of red paint.  Then it happened. A North Pole merchant erected a billboard in an empty lot with the words to the song "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas."

Dasher, who participated in the Million Reindeer March several years ago, was apoplectic.  "How come no one dreams of a Black Christmas?" he demanded of the merchant with the Russian accent.  "Why does Christmas always have to be White? This smacks of racial discrimination."

The worried merchant telephoned Santa, interrupting the jolly old man's afternoon cocktail, a Frozen Daiquiri.  "You're kidding me?" an exasperated Santa said in a shrill voice.  "That's A Christmas classic.  It has nothing to do with race.  It's about white snow for goodness sake."

Santa tried his best to explain the origin of the song to Dasher, who was clearly annoyed to have to listen to such dribble.  After several hours of back-and-forth barbs, Santa shook his head in surrender. "I'll tell the merchant Mr. Gorbachev to tear down that billboard," Santa promised.

A few reindeer weren't mollified.  Donner donned a yellow vest he found in a suit shop on North Pole Avenue.  He urged the other reindeer to follow suit and before you knew it the herd was clomping to the elves' workshop with torches before the Polar National Guard barricaded their progress. 

Order seemed to be restored after that incident.  With Christmas a week away, serenity reigned among the reindeer.  They appeared to never have been so content to mill around and eat bird eggs and mushrooms.  A relaxed Santa held one last dress rehearsal for the reindeer before Christmas eve.

After the drill, Santa made the mistake of asking the reindeer if they had any questions.  Dancer, the deer with the happy feet, stepped forward.  "I was just wondering if you're going to shout: "Merry Christmas to all and to all a Good Night" this year."

Santa rubbed at the bridge of his nose.  "Of course!  Surely no one can object to that," Santa said.  Dancer frowned, a first for a reindeer. "Not everyone celebrates Christmas, Santa.  Can't you just say, "Happy Holidays to all and to all a Good Night?"

Santa glared at the assembled troop of reindeer.  He was treading on dangerous ground here.  Who would pull his sleigh if all his reindeer decided to remain at the North Pole in protest?  Santa pondered Dancer's question.  The reindeer began to shift from hoof to hoof awaiting an answer.

"Tell you what," Santa huffed.  "There is a herd of moose south of the North Pole, who are larger and stronger than any of you puny reindeer.  Their antlers are huge and they cut a striking figure.  I think I'm going to replace all of you.  Moose are a happier than this bunch of complainers."

Rudolph was first to speak.  "Oh, come on Santa.  Moose don't have red noses."  Santa laughed.  "Reindeer don't have red noses either, you ninny.  You had a nose job when you were just six days old. I know a plastic surgeon who specializes in Moose nose jobs."

Suddenly, the herd appeared nervous.  There was whispering among the reindeer.  Comet seemed unusually aggravated.  Santa watched with his arms folded, thinking the group had that "Deer In The Headlights" look.  Rudolph eased to the front of the herd.  His nose was blinking red.

"Moose would ruin Christmas for the kids," Rudolph complained.  "They will likely be frightened by those huge antlers. Children expect us to show up.  They know every one of our names.  Plus, can you imagine a herd of moose landing on the roof of a house? It could collapse under the weight."

Santa smiled.  "Then you will show up Christmas eve and forget all your grievances?"  Rudolph turned and saw the other reindeer nodding.  "Yes," Rudolph said in a barely audible voice.  And that's how Santa saved Christmas and stopped the spread of political correctness.         

Santa's Tweets Make Some See Red

The white-bearded guy with the ill-fitting red suit and the ample belly has officially joined the social media craze. The North Pole's most famous resident Santa Claus has his own Twitter account and he has been busy, unleashing a snowstorm of tweets that have raised a few bushy eyebrows.

In an exclusive interview with Drew's Diatribe, Mr. Claus revealed he turned to social media after Fake News outlets skewered him for not releasing his federal tax return.  "The Washington Post claimed I paid no taxes despite my yuge income from licensing my image," Mr. Claus said.

Dressed in his familiar lumpy red suit, Mr. Claus said he had no income in 2016 because a couple of his newly opened North Pole golf courses went belly up. "As a result of the losses,  my deductions offset my income.  So my tax bill was zero.  Get over it Jeff Bezos," Mr. Claus harrumphed.

Bezos is the billionaire owner of The Washington Post and is the chief executive at online retailer giant Amazon, which has refused to use reindeer to deliver its packages. 

"I knew if I wanted the real story to get out, I had to bypass the news media and talk directly to the little people and I'm not just talking about my elves," Mr. Claus said.

Here are some of the tweets Mr. Claus posted during the most recent 11 months:

@realSantaClaus 26 December 2016
The establishment is going crazy because some nosy reporter discovered that I left Presidential Inauguration mugs under a few million trees on Christmas.  MY BAD!  I didn't have time to remove Hillary Clinton's image. It was NOT deliberately mean-spirited.  WHO KNEW?

@realSantaClaus 14 February 2017
Happy Valentine's Day to Harvey Weinstein, who visited the North Pole today handing out candy to all the little girls.  A few of the lucky ones got invitations for a screen test in Harry's office in Hollywood.  WHAT A GUY!

@realSantaClaus 29 June 2017
The FBI arrived at the North Pole today to question me about the email server stowed in the basement of the toy workshop.  I didn't know I had a server.  WHO put that in there?  I suspect Rudolf because he started a blog this year called, "Red Nose This You Giant Tool."  He needed a big server to handle all the emailed comments.

@realSantaClaus 22 July 2017
Some of you SNOWFLAKES have taken to social media to demand I rip down the North Pole statue of St. Nicholas, who inspired the legend of Santa Claus. You claim he was a product of white privilege.  Some of you even blame him for the Civil War in America. We don't have a Democratic Party mayor in North Pole.  I'm the mayor.  The statue STAYS.

@realSantaClaus 13 August 2017
Some guy named Putin from Russia showed up unannounced today.  He practically swooned when Mrs. Claus opened the front door.  (She looks pretty hot in red, if I may say so myself.)  This big shot tried to get me to vote twice in the American presidential election to help his candidate win.  ILLEGAL! Except in Illinois, where even out-of-state reindeer can vote twice.

@realSantaClaus 9 September 2017
During a trial run for Christmas, my sleigh almost was destroyed by a North Korean ballistic missile as we flew over Japan.  It splashed harmlessly in the ocean but it caused a couple of reindeer to lose their racks.  A lump of coal for the  LITTLE ROCKET MAN this year.  And for his barber.

@realSantaClaus 8 October 2017
Have you seen the stock market?  The Dow is going crazy.  North Pole Railroad is up nearly 150 percent. I am having to remake the Monopoly Game this Christmas because real estate value is skyrocketing.  We also will need to print more play money, just like the Federal Reserve.

@realSantaClaus 30 October 2017
Dancer and Blizten were both accused of sexual assault today by Prancer.  They immediately resigned from the reindeer team.  That makes four reindeer I have lost.  At this rate, poor old Rudolf will be pulling my giant sleigh by himself.  Good thing he settled the harassment suit with Vixen by tapping the North Pole hush fund. 

@realSantaClaus 11 November 2017
Working on my Naughty List for this Christmas.  Some of the folks who are sure to make it include Al Franken, Andrea Ramsey, John Conyers, Joe Barton, Gloria Allred, Jim Comey and Robert Mueller.  Permanent names on the list every year are Scourge and everyone who works at FAKE NEWS outlet CNN.

@realSantaClaus 22 November 2017
Lots of you have pleaded with me to stop tweeting.  You think it tarnishes my image because you consider it un-Santa like.  But presidents do it. Pro athletes do it.  Actors do it.  Heck, even the talentless Kardashians do it.  Before Twitter, I was just some fat guy who hung out with stinky reindeer. Now LOOK at me!

@realSantaClaus 24 December 2017
It's snowing and the reindeer are eager to show off their perfect landings on the rooftops of homes all over the world. MERRY CHRISTMAS everyone.  And if you don't believe in me, Santa Claus, then I feel sorry for you.  Even grownups could use a little Christmas magic.

Fake News: Santa's Shocking Revelation

At a hastily called news conference at the newly built North Pole Tower, the world's most talked about person (not named Vladimir Putin) revealed that he intervened in the presidential election. Santa Claus make the shocking admission after weeks of speculation the Russians were involved.

"I decided to come clean," a repentant Claus disclosed to reporters. "Russians get blamed for everything these days.  It would have been easy for me to remain silent, but that kind of behavior would wind up putting me on my own naughty list."

With a teary-eyed Mrs. Claus standing at his side, the jolly red-suited spirit of Christmas said he had spoken to the head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, James Comey.  Contacted by email, the FBI director said no charges would be filed against Mr. Claus.

"We call it the "Hillary Clinton Rule," Comey wrote.  "Clearly, what Mr. Claus did was a violation of election laws, but he just wanted to have a little fun with the presidential outcome.  He was careless but his intent was not malicious."

Pressed to explain how he tampered with the election, Santa unleashed a laugh that make his ample belly shake like a bowl of jello.  "It was really easy," the corpulent man admitted.  "I sent elves to every voting precinct in America.  No one would turn away an elf, even without a voter ID."

According to Santa, the elves waited until after all the votes were cast, then snuck into the building and jiggered with the electronic machines. "You know elves are very mechanical; they were able to change the results with just a screw driver and a hammer."

To distract the poll watchers and election officials, Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer pranced outside each precinct.  "Everyone stopped what they were doing and went outdoors to watch that darn blinking red nose," Santa said with a grin.  "That gave the elves just enough time to switch the votes."

While Rudolf put on a show, the other reindeer marched with signs that warned the Russians were planning to steal the election.  A sampling of the signage: "Put a Putin Puppet In the White House;" "Vladimir Doesn't Dig Chicks In Pantsuits;" and, "The KGB Loves Free Elections."

"It was all a diversionary tactic," Santa explained.  "The clever spooks at the NSA deciphered the signs and came to the conclusion that the Russians were planning a malicious campaign to decide the outcome of the American presidential election."

Santa expressed surprise that America's intelligence community fell for the ruse of a Russian election sabotage.  "Even President Obama ordered an investigation," Santa said, shaking his head in disbelief.  "I wonder if Hillary Clinton had won, would there have been a probe?"

Under pressure from the White House, Santa was forced to delete Mr. Putin from the "nice list" this year.  "That was cruel," Santa complained. "Last year, I gave him Ukraine for Christmas.  He was so appreciative. This year he wanted Eastern Europe.  It would have been huge."

Santa found a kernel of good cheer in the episode.  "The little mischief I concocted had all the media reporting fake news about Russian intervention in our election.  Even The New York Times and The Washington Post took the bait.  Of course today, the news is mostly fantasy just like me."

On a serious note, Santa said the election outcome had left Ms. Claus in a serious funk.  "She was a big Hillary supporter," Santa told reporters. "She hasn't slept in our bed since election night. I think she is suffering from elect-tile dysfunction. She has even threatened to move to the South Pole."

As reporters filed out of the media conference, Santa returned to the podium in a flash and bellowed into the microphone:  "Merry Christmas everyone!  And don't forget to leave a plate of gluten-free cookies by the fireplace this year."